Flatulence: It Divides People
by TirecKhan
Summary: What happens when a childish boyfriend tries to have his not-so-childish girlfriend out-fart him? I was inspired to write this after reading another fanfic where Wendy states that she broke up with Stan because of a farting contest. This is my very first fanfic outing ever, so any and all constructive criticism is welcomed. So go ahead, enjoy!


It was an ordinary morning in the snowy Colorado town known as South Park. Inside the house of one of the many dingbat families the just so happen to reside in this town, there laid two teenagers sleeping peacefully in the same bed. The two teens, named Stan Marsh and Wendy Testaburger, were two ordinary teenage sweethearts who pretty much knew each other in and out. Dating nonstop since the 4th grade, the two finally started to become more serious and intimate around the age of sixteen, which brought the two of them into the situation that they currently found themselves in. Stan's parents were out of town that weekend to pay an emergency visit to their college-bound daughter Shelly, who was in dire need of financial assistance. So logically, it made sense for Stan to have his girlfriend over for a night of animalistic romance without any fear of adults popping in at the most inappropriate moments.

Stan Marsh was a boy who as ordinary as ordinary can be. He lived an average mountain-town life and had intelligence and maturity levels that were at least up to par with most other boys in his age group. His intelligence level is proven by his grades and his ability to fend for himself. All that was important was that his grades were good enough to get by, and as long as he got himself fed and didn't get himself killed, he was fine. As for his maturity levels, the best way to measure them is through his sense of humor, as is with any other individual. The most ideal sense of humor is one that's not too adult and not too childish but perfectly in the middle, and that's where Stan rested. Eight years earlier, Stan would laugh at pretty much any joke that had even the slightest possible thing to do with bodily functions, but nowadays, the only one that did the trick anymore was flatulence, thus making sure that's he still a fan of the infamous Canadian duo Terrance and Philip, but aside from that, Stan became much more aware of what made real comedy work and didn't have to rely on such cheap body gags for laughs. Wow, I'm writing myself into a corner here, moving on.

Wendy Testaburger, who started dating Stan at the age of eight, was really no different from then as she was now. Her intelligence and maturity levels were slightly above the norm among girls in her age group. Wendy was no super genius, but her grades were still superior to most other kids in her classes. As for her maturity levels, Wendy too was in the middle, but was leaning more towards the adult side. She never found flatulence amusing and still doesn't. So again, nothing's changed.

After a rather long and vigorous sex session the previous night, the two horny teens then proceeded to take a much-needed peaceful slumber that lasted until around 8:30 in the morning. Stan woke up approximately five minutes before Wendy did, but didn't feel like getting up very much, so he just lay there on his bed for a little while. After about a minute or two, Stan felt a wee bit cold and proceeded to put his clothes from the previous day back on, but then gave up shortly afterwards, only putting on his white briefs that wrapped around his rear end and genitals in the most snug and comfy way. After lying lazily on his bed some more, Stan then felt the building up of pressure in his lower tummy. Remembering that his last meal from the previous night was a microwave burrito that contained its fair share of beans and cheese, Stan came down to the logical conclusion that the pressure was from the gaseous byproducts of that burrito caused by the breaking down of undigested food material by bacteria, and decided that a good way to start his day with Wendy was to blast his pants cannon in her presence. So Stan proceeded to let out a tiny fart that sounded a little bit like it was made by somebody making the noise from the back of their throat.

Slumbering the most peaceful slumber she's had in a very long time, Wendy was stirred awake by a faint, gaseous odor. She woke up to find her boyfriend sniffing with all of his effort. When Stan noticed Wendy staring at him with a slightly confused expression, Stan took immediate offense. "What? It wasn't me. HeHe." Wendy knew damn well that it was him, but didn't say anything anyway just to humor him. She then proceeded to try to fall back asleep, but was then brought back awake by another fart sound, slightly louder than the previous one.

Stan sighed when he noticed Wendy glaring at him again. "One that smelt it, dealt it," was the only defense he could come up with on the fly, just as he proceeded to rip another one in Wendy's direction. Pretty soon, more and more gas began to flood Stan's lower innards like a thundering cowherd. The next one he ripped was a very long, loud, and slightly bubbly crackle of a noise that suddenly turned any and all EDM compositions into the most graceful sounds to ever be blessed onto any non-fan's soul. "Oh yeah, not so silent, but very deadly. Top that buddy!" Stan quipped, challenging Wendy to try and join in to the best of her ability, forgetting that Wendy was not the same as he was. Wendy, on the other hand, then suddenly realized that what Stan was doing was to try and start a whole farting contest with her, causing Wendy to finally work up the courage to tell Stan something that's been burning on her mind for quite a while by then.

"Look, Stan, I need to tell you something. I don't think that this is going to work out." Stan, bewildered by this sudden truth, felt compelled to ask, "What, why? Because I fart?" "No," Wendy answered while starting to put her clothes back on, "it's not because of the farting, everybody farts. It's because of how childish you are. You're sixteen years old and you still think that farting contests are worthwhile entertainment. If you were a fart fetishist or something, it'd be different. But no, it's just because your still the same annoying little child that you were eight years ago, and I can't take it anymore. I'll see you around." Wendy had all of her clothes back on and went out the door. Letting Wendy's words soak in, Stan fell back onto his bed and started to get all teary-eyed as he ripped one last bubbly bout of anal gas.


End file.
